Till Death Do Us Part
by 1000th Ghost
Summary: "The Phantom of the Opera"...except as twelve year olds, in modern day, with reversed genders...and stranded on a deserted island.
1. Chapter 1

**Till Death Do Us Part**

**By: 1000th Ghost**

**Erik = Maddie  
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**Raoul = Becky**

**Christine = *to be announced*  
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June 28, 2005

Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh, oh, gosh, oh, gosh. Oh. Gosh. Maybe if I write that enough times this'll make sense. Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh. It's not working. Becky won't shut up. Rambling on and on about Aaron. I DON'T CARE ABOUT AARON! I don't care. I don't care that she's rambling. The little girl's asleep. Good. Oh, gosh, not another one. It's over. Freakin' wave. I'm hungry. And tired. And thirsty as heck. If I hear one more word about Aaron, I swear I'll…do what? Push her overboard? Eh, might as well. It's not like anyone would ever know. But no. I need morals. Or do I? Becky's my best friend, for crying out loud. I need to think straight. How can I? Man, I'd even go for one of those crappy airline meals. Maybe we should swim down to the wreckage and salvage some. Ha ha. "Excuse me ma'am, could I get another Diet Dr. Pepper? Oh, you're busy dying? Well, gees, that's not my fault! Whatever happened to customer first?" That's mean. It's not the flight attendant's fault. It's not anyone's fault really. Except for maybe the pilot. But how should I know? All of a sudden everyone's screaming and shoving rafts in people's faces. Whatever. Guess it's pretty cool we survived in the first place. I doubt anyone else did. They're all dead. Oh, well. No one I knew. Maybe my future husband was on that plane. Crap. I'm gonna be an old maid. In a house with one hundred cats. Wait…that's not right. I'll just starve to death on this crummy raft. Slowly losing my mind listening to the lovesick droning of my best friend and the snoring of some kid I've never seen. Gah. Maybe I'll turn cannibal. But who to eat? On the one hand, Becky rocks, and Little Kid I don't know. On the other hand, Little Kid is more or less silent, whereas Becky WON'T SHUT UP! Out of this entire thing, all she seems to care about is that she can't see her boyfriend anymore. I swear, I'll never understand that girl. If I ever get that crazy over some guy, they can just shoot me. Write on my gravestone "Madeleine Christine Destler. November 1, 1992-July 28, 2005. Died of a broken heart." Ha ha. Like that'll ever happen. Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh. Nope. Still here. This stinks. But, hey, what can you do?


	2. Chapter 2

June 29, 2005

Ah. Another day at sea. How cool is this? Don't answer that. Becky has stopped talking about Aaron (improvement) and started talking about her hair (BAD). Yes, her hair is a mess. So's mine. No, duh. Did she expect salt and wind to be good for her golden Marsha Brady-ness? I hardly think so. I wonder how Aunt Meg is. She's not a real aunt. She's Mom's best friend from childhood. She invited me and 'a friend' (gosh, I wish I had a friend who didn't talk so much) for the fourth. You know, of July. Woot. Well, here we are. Only not. Cuz no one planned on this, did they? Yeah, I need to get a crystal ball. Then I could of stayed home. I think I might hit Becky over the head with this book. Ha ha. But that would be a bad example for Little Kid. She's awake now. I don't really know what to do around little kids. I mean, you can't start talking about guys and makeup. That would be Becky. Whatever. Little Kid's just sorta sitting there. She doesn't talk much. Once she said she was hungry. I just grunted at her. Becky's nuts over her. She started to talk about catching a fish for about twenty minutes. Very unrealistic. I think I'd eat Becky before Little Kid. Little Kid keeps quiet. I like quiet. Guess I'm not much of a people person. Silence is good. Just shut me in a locked, dark room, and I'll be happy. Nah, not completely though. I need some music in my life. Get that from Mom and Dad, I guess. Dad's a kinda singer/composer and Mom's a singer. They're loaded. So, yeah, I guess music is cool. Except when it comes out of Becky's mouth. Shudder. Don't want that. Maybe Little Kid can sing. Then again, what if she starts to sing and stinks? Then she wouldn't shut up. That'd be just what I need. Ha ha. Not. I'm getting bored. Well, not that I wasn't already. Border. That's not a word, is it? Eh, no one cares. I just had a thought. What if we die here? How retarded would that be? I want to die of some freaky thing. You know, like having your soul ripped out on the steps of a crypt. Only that might hurt. So maybe not. Starvation isn't my thing though. Not fun stuff. I wonder if we'll ever get home. Mom and Dad probably wouldn't even notice. Not that they're bad parents or anything. Just preoccupied. Not sure why they had me. Too late now, huh? Here I am. Disaster in progress. Stranded on the ocean. WARNING: MAY PROVE TO BE TOXIC. Lol. I thought I saw something for a second. Maybe not. I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. I gotta stop before I go completely crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

June 30, 2005

I'm not crazy. I'm dead serious. I saw something. Ok…maybe I'm still crazy. But that's besides the point. Guess where I am now? No, really, guess. I'll tell you where I'm not. On that forsaken raft. Ha! Nope, yesterday I spotted (I spotted, not Becky…let the record show that I have accomplished something that she hasn't!) land. Then we had to face the nearly impossible feat of actually getting there. Not pretty. Becky refused to do any work (ok, that's not true, just not a lot) but then complained when I couldn't go fast enough. I think she finds it remarkable that everyone in the world isn't as perfect as she is. So, anyway, land. Some freakin' piece of crap in the middle of absolutely nowhere. I think. I actually have no idea where it is. Maybe we're in Hawaii. How cool would that be? So, we're just soaking it up. Think I'll go order a smoothie. Peach mango. Yum-yum. Hmm…thinking about food ain't too smart, is it? I'm hungry enough as is. Haven't eaten anything since those stupid peanuts and my wonderfully iced-down Diet Dr. Pepper. Hungry? Nah, that would be putting it mildly. How about FREAKIN' STARVING TO THE NTH DIMENSION? Yeah, that puts it nicely. If we were smart we'd look for food. But we're not, so we aren't. All that's here is sand. Sand. Yum. Add a "wich", and it means something. Now it's just getting stuck to my legs. We could get food if we really wanted to. But you know what it is, honestly? We're all afraid of the jungle. And seriously, who wouldn't be? It's like…big. Ooh, descriptive. And dark. Man, I'm on a roll. My language arts teacher would freak. Ha ha. Well, it's not like this is graded. I think she'd give up after the first sentence. My handwriting's not exactly decipherable, as you can plainly see. Anyway…hmm…immense and sinister. Yeah, that describes it. Basically, it's your classic "jungle". I think. It's not like we've been inside of it. Yet. Shudder. I dread the "yet". But we'll have to go in eventually. It's not as if we can starve forever. Well, we can, but that'd be pretty pointless. In fact, we'll probably have to go in soon. Know how I know? Becky shut up. Yes, Becky, _the _Becky, has shut the gaping hole in her face. It's a miracle. She's too weak from hunger, she says. Maybe I'll let her starve. Lol. And I'm thirstythirstythirsty. Can't you only survive three days without water? How long has it been? Two-ish days? Maybe? There might have been a time change somewhere along there. Who knows? Little Kid sleeps a lot. I do too. We're all just sorta sprawled on the sand being drama queens. "It's a miracle! We survived! Let's collapse in a heap so the wonderful audience can grieve for our wellbeing and soak up the suspense!" We're so lazy.


	4. Chapter 4

July 1, 2005

I just realized how pointless this all is. I mean, writing this. Why on earth does it matter? It doesn't. At home I never do this. Yeah, weird, huh? You'd think I was some big writer. Nope. Mom got this for me. When she met Dad, she became obsessed with her diary, describing him and everything that happened and blah blah blah. Mom's a hopeless romantic. I'm not. But she got me this freakin' diary anyway. So I wrote in it. Like, twice. Maybe once a month. She told me to bring it on the trip. I guess she thinks Aunt Meg has nothing to do to keep me occupied. I highly disagree. As long as she's got a TV, I'm set. Which reminds me…there's no TV. I'm gonna miss The Bachelorette. Crap. Maybe Mom'll tape it for me. Doubt it. I should of grabbed…uh…a pillow or something. Instead I grabbed my freakin' diary. It's pretty cool. Big and black and leather with blood-red roses. Lol. How gothic. And a big, silver lock. Gotta love it. I'm sorta glad I have it though. Like…it's something to do. And when we all perish from starvation, someone can come find us centuries later and read about what happened. Then it can be a novel. And a major motion picture. I hope I'm played by Angelina Jolie. Becky'll probably be played by Brittany Spears. Little Kid'll be…uh…well, some famous little kid. Someone with curly, blond hair and a cute, little nose. With my luck, I'll probably be played by a guy. Maybe a dog. Oh, did I tell you? We found water. As much as I'd love to write some big, drawn out thing about this, I'm not gonna. I don't feel like it. Got a problem? Don't care.


	5. Chapter 5

July 2, 2005

Ok, so I'll tell. That just shows how bored I am. We went into the jungle (ooh, ah, gasp) and found a stream. Hopefully it's not contaminated or something, but no one's died yet, so I suppose that's a good thing. We spent, like, an entire freakin' day drinking water. It was pretty cool too cuz there's this little part that turns into a pool thing. Becky, of course, strips down to her underwear and jumps in. Yep, gotta show off those rock-hard abs to someone (even if it's just a bird, a fly, and a tree). Sometimes I wonder why we're friends in the first place. Guess it's cuz of Mom. Thought it would be good to have someone so quote unquote "ladylike" as a friend. Looking back, I don't even think she gave me a choice. "Maddie, Becky. Becky, Maddie. Go play." At least I'm not a complete loner. But seriously, Becky? I can't even begin to fathom what's wrong with her. Maybe that's it. Nothing's wrong with her. But she fails to realize this. On a conscious level. It starts to get to you after a while. How can she be so self-conscious and then go swimming in an underwear-bikini? I'm not modest or anything, but I don't go undressing in front of people. That's just weird. Except that then Little Kid got completely naked and started swimming too, so I figured, what the heck? When in Rome. It was totally nice. Not, like, icy or anything but not bathtub water. Just right. I suppose one could find it disturbing that we're swimming in our drinking water, but I'm not sure that hygiene is important here. The jungle ain't half bad. I mean, sure, we're probably gonna run into a piranha or tiger or something behind a tree, but that's besides the point. Wait…aren't piranhas fish? What am I thinking of? That big snake thing that squeezes you or eats you or something, you know? Man, what is that? Boa constrictor! Oh, yeah! How the heck did I get piranha from boa constrictor? I think I'll just leave that one unanswered. Oh, and guess what? We found food! Bananas! Yum-yum! Normally I hate bananas (except the split kind), but now I really can't think of anything I'd rather have (except the split kind). And Little Kid wandered off for awhile. Becky freaked, but I thought she'd survive. Guess who was right? Well, actually, me for once. Strike a point up! She came back chewing on some sort of minty thing. But she couldn't remember where she got it from. Or if she did, it's no good to us since she never talks. I'm totally ticked though, I mean, how cool would mint be? Hey, I could make toothpaste! Revolutionary! Or I could take a bite of banana and a bite of mint and chew it up together. Hmm…that sounded a lot better in my head than on paper. But whatever. Little Kid fell asleep right after that. Becky's trying to get a tan. In the middle of the jungle. Yeah…that'll work. You know what we should have? A house or something. Like, shelter. Man, here we are worrying about tans and mint, and we don't even have the basics. We're so pathetic. First thing tomorrow! Uh…well…maybe…


	6. Chapter 6

July 3, 2005

Shelter. AKA crap. I keep thinking of Robinson Caruso. And Gilligan's Island. Man, they make it look so easy. I wish I knew how to make a radio out of a coconut. Or, like…at least a hut. All we did was string our shirts together and kind of tie them between two trees. Sorta looks like a really gay hammock. So there's all of no room. But there's…a line of clothes above us. Woot. It's somewhat secluded - there's leaf-ish walls. But I swear, if something wanted to eat us, it could just walk right in and BAM! No more Becky. Becky's beginning to bug me. I mean, not in a purposeful way or anything, she's just irritating. Like, get this, she actually wants to play house. I'm not even kidding. She's all, "Oh, Little Kid can be the baby, and you can be the girl, and I'll be the mom! And we can cook and stuff!" Gag me. Becky as my mother? What, so she can have even more control over my meaningless existence? Ha ha. I think not. Besides, it's not like we don't quote unquote "play house" anyway. But what my brilliant friend here fails to understand is that THIS IS REAL! HELLO! Reality check! Oh, did I tell you? Little Kid's sick. I mean, like, really. You know yesterday? And she fell asleep? Yeah, well, she hasn't woken up yet. Well, she has but only for, like, a minute. And she's all sweating and red and fever-y. Becky's freaking. I'm like…too bad, so sad. I mean, not to sound mean or anything. But it's not as if there's anything we can do about it, you know? Just between you and me, I bet it was that minty stuff. Cuz Becky and I aren't sick. So…food poisoning? Well, that's bad and all, but it passes. Unless I'm wrong. Maybe she caught some freaky jungle thing. I dunno. Hope it's not contagious.


	7. Chapter 7

July 4, 2005

Happy Fourth of July. Woot. Man…I don't wanna write today. Hooray for independence? I wish we had some fireworks. We do, kinda. We made this big fire thing. Ok, no, we didn't. It's not like the movies, folks. You can't get a fire by rubbing two sticks together. You can get blisters but, no, no fire. We did however manage to get a small-ish fire. All thanks to Becky and her one-track mind. She had a cell phone in her pocket. Ha ha. I honestly think she thought she could get reception for a while. Loser. It's a miracle it survived being in water. But I guess we were only in the water for like, nothing. We kinda found the raft pretty quick. Cuz everyone wanted to help us. Cuz we're cute, innocent, little kids. Suckers. So, anyway, we've got a no-signal phone. Woot. You can play bowling on it. Ha ha. But I don't. Videogames of any kind give me a headache. Especially today. Gosh, I feel awful. Like I got hit by a truck or something. So, anyway, fire. Yeah, we reflected light off Becky's phone's screen. Pretty resourceful, huh? Man, we deserve a reward. So, yeah, we got a kinda half-good fire. We decided to celebrate since it's the Fourth and all. So (now don't barf) we found a dead bird and roasted it. And ate it. With bananas. It was (I think I might barf here) good. Well…no, not really. But, hey, meat is meat, right? Beggars can't be choosers. And we are so in the beggar category right now. We had fun though. We danced around the fire singing old Spice Girl songs at the top of our lungs. Which wasn't good for Becky. Becky and music just…no. Don't even go there. Little Kid was a mess. She didn't know any words or anything so she just ran around aimlessly. I kept thinking she would trip and fall in the fire, but nope. She's totally cool. Maybe just a tad bit under the weather, but I think her thingy has more or less passed. It's me I'm worried about now. I mean, during that whole thing I was acting crazy and having fun, so I didn't really notice. But now that it's dark, and I'm by myself (writing by the light of the phone), I'm just dead. I mean, like, my head is so heavy I think it'll fall off. I gotta sleep or something or…oh, man. Ok, I gotta go. I don't know what happened. Ow. Ok, this is bad. I'm gonna pass out or something. I gotta go…oh, my gosh…there's like…a…oh, gosh…


	8. Chapter 8

**Christine = Jungle Boy**

July ?, 2005

I don't know what day it is. Actually, truth be told, I don't know what month it is. Or, for that matter, what year. But I can't have been out that long, so I guess it's safe to assume that…shutting up now. Dates are trivial. I don't care. Know what I do care about? Ok…this is gonna sound so weird. I was kidnapped. I think. I mean, how else would I get in this awesome little bed thing? I don't even know what it's made of. Like…flowers and feathers. Or something. Man, it feels so good after all those freakin' nights on the ground. But, like…ok. This is too freaky. I'm…I wanna say in a cave. But it's got dirt walls. Am I underground? I think I fell down a rabbit hole like Alice. Next I'll meet the White Rabbit. Fun stuff. But no, I was totally brought here. I swear. There was, like, this…boy. Well, not "like" a boy, "a" boy. Just before I passed out. He sort of appeared. Next thing I know, poof!, I'm here. Explanation? Man, I'd kill for one. This is so unrealistic. What, I was kidnapped by a jungle boy? Yeah. I'm sure. But…I guess reality doesn't really apply when you're stranded. Maybe I'm dreaming. Or hallucinating. I mean, I was pretty sick. So maybe I'm just imagining this whole thing. But you know what? I hope I'm not. I'd love to be kidnapped by a jungle boy. Why? Dunno. Excitement? A break from the ordinary? Pretty cool…as long as he doesn't kill me or anything. But, I mean, he made me a freakin' bed! Hardly seems like the murderer's plan of action. But how would I know? Man…a boy tucked me in. Kinda twisted, but, hey, I'm not complaining. Maybe he kidnapped me to be his jungle queen. Watch and be amazed as my imagination totally takes control. We can swing through the trees and have lots of little jungle babies. Lol. Hey, I just thought of something. He picked me over Becky. How often does that happen? It's like picking Raggedy Ann instead of Barbie. Well…this is certainly thought provoking. I can't believe I'm thinking like this. I could be in real danger. But somehow…that just doesn't seem important. I like my first explanation better. Signing off: Mrs. Jungle Boy.


	9. Chapter 9

July ?, 2005

I'm still going with my first explanation. I have never been so happy in my entire life. How corny did that sound? I'm serious though. I mean, it's not one specific thing, it's just, like…I dunno. I'm happy. I love this. I'm being waited on hand and foot by this hot guy. Oh, did I mention he's hot? Well, he is. Yeah, I actually saw him. He gave me something to drink. In a half coconut. Tasted like some strawberry/pineapple thing. With something that I can't quite identify, but I know I've had. He's so sweet. He held it up to my lips and everything. I said thanks. He didn't say anything. I wonder if he can talk. Heck, I wonder where he came from in the first place. I mean, people don't just manifest in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he was shipwrecked too. As a baby or something. And was raised by wolves. Like The Jungle Book. Lol. Maybe he only speaks wolf. I'd better learn. But I don't really care that we can't talk. He just smiles at me and stuff. Man, he's got a beautiful smile. Something like a mixture of Elvis, Brad Pitt, and Clark Gable. Or maybe I'm just making that up. But he's really hot. His hair is almost as dark as mine. Kinda long, but I've seen boys at school with longer! And a great body. Skinny but muscular. Good grief, I just read over that. I sound like Becky. No! I'm turning to the Dark Side! He's wearing this weird loincloth/leaf thing. You know, like in the movies. He's so beautiful. So traditional jungle-boy-ish. If I could draw, I'd draw him. Only my drawing skills consist of lines and dots. And even those come out wrong. About as atrocious as my handwriting. I've just been kinda sleeping on and off all day. Relapsing from whatever the heck I had. I guess I'm still sorta sick-ish. But really improved. Thanks to him, I think. I think he gave me some freaky jungle medicine. Aw. How sweet. And this one time, I was, like, half-asleep-half-awake-ish, and he was stroking my hair. And I didn't even register it until I woke up. I just had a thought. All I'm wearing is a bra and jean shorts. Shirts were sacrificed to the making of our lovely shelter. But I don't really mind. I mean, he's just a boy. I'll live. But he's not just a boy. He's so much more. I think maybe I'll just stay here. Hope he doesn't mind. He's got a nice place. And he's sweet as heck. Yeah, why not? Becky can fend for herself.


	10. Chapter 10

July 8, 2005

I miss him. Sob. I'm back in reality now. Well, if you can call this reality. I woke up, and BAM! I'm back. Right under the shirt-hammock. As if I'd never left. Maybe I didn't. Maybe it was all just some weird dream brought along by my damaged subconscious. But, no. I've got feathers and flowers stuck in my hair. From that bed. Gosh, that bed was so comfortable. It's like, if I were to die there, well, whatever. I'd be happy. The ground is so freakin' HARD! Ha ha. No, duh. Besides, I couldn't have imagined the whole thing. It was too real! That doesn't sound like a very convincing reason. Well…it is. I mean, how could I have imagined feeling happy? I couldn't. No, I was really kidnapped by a jungle boy. He gave me medicine and made me a bed. And he was hot. I miss him. Now I'm back with Becky. Hmm…wonder which one is the better companion? No contest. Little Kid died. Sad. Becky said I'd been gone for three days. She was screaming at me. She's gone crazy, I swear. She freaked out. Cuz, she wakes up, Little Kid's dead, and I'm gone. I'd probably freak too. She gave Little Kid a kinda mock funeral. I'm not sure where she buried her. I'm not sure how she buried her. Becky isn't exactly the most athletic person in the world. She'd probably be afraid of breaking a nail or something. Becky keeps bursting into tears. Pathetic. I mean, it's tragic and all that, but we knew her for all of a week. There wasn't anything to be done. End of story. She probably just got too worked up at the Fourth thing too soon after her fever. I wonder though…did I get what she got? Would I be dead if it weren't for him? Man…I owe him my life. I should thank him or something. But it's not like I know where he is. Becky's mad at me. Saying all I do is write. And stare into space. I don't help. I don't care. She doesn't understand. I don't have room for anything other than him to occupy my thoughts. I haven't told her. She's persistent though. She wants to know where I've been. I'll probably crack and tell soon enough. As much as I like having it be a secret, I'm dying to tell someone. But I hate the thought of having to share him. He's mine.


	11. Chapter 11

July 9, 2005

I wonder what he's doing. I hate Becky. I shouldn't have told. What does he do during the day? Like, swim or something? Or hunt? I can't remember what I ate when I was there. I was probably too sick to eat. Except for that medicine. I've got a really strong craving for strawberries and pineapples. I won't let Becky have him. I bet he can hunt really well. Pigs and stuff. And fish. Smoked salmon. That bed. Can you blame me? That life rocks. But I don't just want to go back for food and comfort. I want him. I shouldn't have told Becky. But I did. She just wouldn't stop asking. So I told her. That I was kidnapped by a jungle boy. She didn't believe me. She thought I was delusional. But then where was I those three days? She thought I was sleepwalking. Ha ha. Yeah, right. Does sleepwalking make you feel this way? I doubt it. Highly. So I showed her the feathers and flowers. I saved them in my pocket. My little souvenir. Sometimes I talk to them. Pretend they're him. Maybe he can somehow hear me. Like, telepathy. I can give him a lock of my hair, and we can communicate. Like walkie-talkies. Ha ha. Becky believed me. I think. She said I was stupid to be so in love with him. Is that was this is? Love? She said I could have been in danger. Do I love him? Can I love him? I hardly know him. I owe him my life. She said I was lucky after I wouldn't shut up about how wonderful he was. So she dropped the whole danger thing. What is love anyway? She said I was lucky. I'm not lucky. Lucky would be if I had stayed. I didn't. I hate my life. I want to go back. What's the point of living out here? Nothing. Everything is underground. She said she wished it had happened to her. That she had gotten sick instead of me. So she could meet him. Did I try to steal Aaron from her? No. Why can't she just let me be happy? Is that the only reason he took me instead of her? Because I was the one who was sick? Was he just trying to help? Does he love me? Do I love him? Does Becky? I hate Becky. She can't have him. I won't let her. I'll beat her to him. I love him. There. I said it. Wrote it. Whatever. I, Madeleine Christine Destler, am hopelessly in love with Jungle Boy. I now pronounce you husband and wife. It's not gonna be that easy, is it? I won't let her win. I love him. But I'm so confused. I ran away. Like, two sentences ago. I can't help it. I found a place. A pool thing. With a waterfall. Better than our other pool. I'm gonna stay here. I don't care what Becky says. I can't stay. I need to think. I…oh, gosh. He's here.


	12. Chapter 12

July 10, 2005

Well. How do I put this? Wow. Good adjective there. Wow. Is that an adjective? Aw, who cares? I've experienced heaven. I swear. I was just sitting there. In the pool. Very relaxful. Writing. Thinking about him. And then I look up, and he's just there. He suddenly materialized or something. I'd love to say I got out and ran to him looking like some sun-kissed movie star but uh…no. I just stayed there. Kinda freaked. Totally freaked. He just stared at me. And I stared back. How fun. And then he walked closer. And I thought I would die. And then he was, right at the edge of the pool. Right next to me. Only I was in the pool. And then he sat down and got in. And then I'm pretty sure I did die. I'm a ghost now. Ha ha. No, not really. He must have thought I was an idiot. Just staring at him. Not doing anything. Not saying anything. Well, really, what could I say? I've still got no proof that he can talk. But that doesn't matter. Maybe he's just really shy. Shy? Ha! Yeah, right. So we were just, like, in the water, just staring. And then he kissed me. Wait, that sounds so lame. "He kissed me." Blah. And then we had milk and cookies. So elementary school. Let's try again. The irresistible boy wrapped-no, snaked his arms around my trembling frame and brought his lips to mine with such intensity that…aw, forget it. I'm so embarrassed just writing this. I'm, like, literally blushing right now. You get the point anyway. But for my first kiss, I think I caught on pretty quickly. What can I say? Kissing is fun. Lol. We could of stayed there for hours. We probably did. I wouldn't know. I was completely oblivious to the world. Except him, of course. Then Becky came. That *beep *beep* *beep* girl. And ruined everything. She screamed. I ran away. I don't know what he did. I'm writing this from the sanctity of a tree. I don't know what I'm gonna do. But it was worth it.


	13. Chapter 13

July 11, 2005

I still can't decide. I mean…what do I mean? I don't know. I came back. To camp. Becky was mad. As heck. Like, screaming at me. I honestly think she thinks she's my mom. Saying I shouldn't run off with a boy. Ha ha. I don't care. This isn't just "running off with a boy". This is…gah, how can I even put it? I can't. I mean, I love him. But it's more than love. It's like…I don't know. He's necessary to my survival. And Becky was an obstacle. She needed to be gone. She fainted halfway through her longwinded lecture on the importance of not "running off with a boy". I can't be sure why. But I'm guessing it was because of the sickness. First Little Kid, then me, then Becky. He'd be back for her. Back to take her to his underground kingdom. To feed her strawberry pineapple medicine and let her sleep on feather flower beds. Not gonna happen. But it would. I knew it would. Why limit himself to just me? When he could have her? Now he had an excuse. That's right: had. He doesn't have that excuse anymore. Becky is no longer a problem. I think I mentioned before how this diary was a great benefit. Cuz it kept me entertained. Guess what? It's got another purpose. It's heavy. And the lock? Big, metal, and heavy. Real heavy. It could do damage if applied hard enough. And it wasn't like she could fight back. She was out cold to begin with. Yep. Use your imagination. It's kinda bugging me though. I mean, there's this ugly red stain on it. How will I ever get that off? Oh, well. Guess it's just a small sacrifice. But what to do now? How should I know? Find him? That would make the most sense. Sense. Ha ha. What's that?


	14. Chapter 14

July 12, 2005

I gotta say, I never thought my wedding day would be quite like this. I always pictured a big, stain-glass-windowed church with trillions of people and a dress with an unnecessary mountain of frills. Probably my mom's dress. Oh, and a cake that went to the ceiling. With pink icing. And a bouquet of red roses (for me, obviously, not the cake). But you know what? Those're just things. I mean, in reality all you need is the groom. Which is basically all I have. He's so sweet. I ran all over the island trying to find him. There's a lot of stuff here. Maybe we shoulda taken the time to explore more. Oh, well. Too late now. I found him in our pool. Face down. I had to drag him out. He was unexpectedly light. I suppose the water helped. I could just glide him through. It killed me to have to disturb him. He looked so peaceful. But I needed him. I carried him back to our house. It's right by the pool actually. There's a hole just to the left of the waterfall. That's how he knew I was here before, I guess. It's really a cute place. All it needs is some decorating. Maybe some curtains. Underground? Eh, I'll find a way. The ceremony was very simple but beautiful all the same. He couldn't say his vows, so I said them for him. So now we are officially man and wife. Woot. What could be better than this? I mean, really, I'm so lucky. He's such a great guy. So sweet. He never says anything. Never complains. He just sits there. So limp. Pale, clammy skin. Stares with cold, unblinking eyes. Full of love. We're gonna be so happy together. Why am I still writing? I don't have time for this! I have to start dinner. He'll be hungry soon.

**The End**


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